Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/820

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING And so, I thought, my likeness grew (Without the melancholy tale) To 'gentle hermit of the dale,' And Angelina too.

For oft I read within my nook Such minstrel stories; till the breeze Made sounds poetic in the trees, And then I shut the book.

If I shut this wherein I write, I hear no more the wind athwart Those trees, nor feel that childish heart Delighting in delight.

My childhood from my life is parted, My footstep from the moss which drew Its fairy circle round: anew The garden is deserted.

Another thrush may there rehearse The madrigals which sweetest are; No more for me! myself afar Do sing a sadder verse.

Ah me! ah me! when erst I lay In that child's-nest so greenly wrought, I laugh'd unto myself and thought, 'The time will pass away.'

And still I laugh'd, and did not fear But that, whene'er was pass'd away The childish time, some happier play My womanhood would cheer.

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